


Mal Appétit

by SeaSongMountain



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Hannibal is a Bad Cook, Implied Cannibalism, M/M, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaSongMountain/pseuds/SeaSongMountain
Summary: Hannibal Lecter, MD, PsyD, former surgeon, currently a psychiatrist and FBI consultant, socialite, the Copycat Killer, the Chesapeake Ripper, is a horrible cook.And a liar.





	Mal Appétit

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to whoever they belong to.  
> Warning: English is not my first language. Please inform me if there are any mistakes, I'll be happy to correct them.

The truth is, Hannibal is not a good cook.

In fact, Dr.Lecter, with his infinite intellect and refinement, MD, PsyD, respected surgeon and psychiatrist, socialite, upstanding member of the Baltimore community, is a horror in the kitchen.

His dinner parties are certainly of note, just not for the reasons he imagines. And Baltimore, under the leadership of Mrs. Komoda, has decided to maintain a harmless white little lie to preserve the good doctor’s dignity. This does not mean they do not fervently wish that someday, Dr.Lecter can find a partner who can take over the cooking. Though considering the zeal with which Dr.Lecter guards his culinary domain, that wish is unlikely to be granted even if he settles down. However, such knowledge has not stopped many of the matriarchs from pushing their daughters and sometimes granddaughters in the doctor’s direction. But nothing ever came of it. Dr.Lecter remains quite the desirable bachelor, minus his cooking that is.

Though Dr.Lecter insists that he is not looking to settle down and is perfectly content by himself, Jack suspects that it’s just because his dates cannot tolerate the fare he provides. If that is one of the must-have qualities of the doctor’s partner, Jack would probably be the only candidate left. And his absolute heterosexuality also definitely puts him off the list. Pity that Lecter would live out his years alone. Considering the man’s dishes, that would probably be for the best.

Seriously, because the nature of Jack’s work at BAU necessitates a good relationship with the renowned doctor for his skills and input, Agent Crawford has forced down many a meal at Hannibal’s table, probably the most among Hannibal’s friends and acquaintances. Price, Zeller, and Katz all refused, citing their unfamiliarity with the doctor and Jack’s superior position as their escape routes. Alana, with her fair share of invitations from her John Hopkins days, sees no need to add to them at all. And that leaves him to take the bullet.

And what a shape this bullet comes in.

He looks down at his plate. Picks up his knife and fork, saws through the slab of something, and puts one piece in his mouth. Plaster as always. So he drowns the taste in wine as always.

The wine is always good at least.

The line between politely enthusiastic and not too enthusiastic that Dr.Lecter would be tempted to give him larger portions is a fine one to walk. He already has the fact of being a large man against him. But cleverly utilized napkins and a trip to the bathroom should do it.

After all, anything for saving lives.

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

The first time that Will ever had something Hannibal made was that morning in his hotel room. And truth be told, he didn’t think overly much about the food, more about the motivations behind the food. Sure the sausages were a bit dry, the spice unevenly distributed, and the eggs a little clunky, but he has never been a picky eater as evidenced by his own eating schedule and cartons of take-outs. There are only so many ways you can screw up a “protein scramble” as Dr.Lecter calls it in his oh-so-posh voice and exotic accent. And they are all outweighed by the expediency of the morning door delivery.

And that is why Will is woefully unprepared at his first sit-down dinner with the doctor. Alana and Jack are also there, “to ease him into things”. Little does he know that they meant the cooking and not the therapy. However afterwards, even with his extreme aversion to psychiatrists and them trying to root around and dig in his head, he could honestly see where they were coming from.

“Filet Mignon with Balsamic glaze, with a side of steamed asparagus and Porcini mushrooms. Enjoy.” Hannibal comes in triumphantly, bearing plates on which their dinner is neatly arranged.

“It looks beautiful, Hannibal. Very well served.” Alana chooses her words tactfully.

Hannibal smiles, the corners of his mouth slightly tucked up, the equivalent of a beam on anyone else. “Please, eat up.”

Will picks up his utensils, cuts a piece off with some difficulty, bites down…and isn’t able to bite through.

A slightly raised eyebrow prompts a response. His toe is mercilessly tortured by Alana’s heel. He can see why Jack does not insist on gun training with her. The heels are dangerous, and painful.

He coughs. “It’s certainly nothing I have ever had before.”

Hannibal smiles lightly and returns to his dish, apparently satisfied. Will watches him eat, glances discreetly at Jack and Alana, and wonders how the man can stay oblivious for so long. Or if he has some rare problem with taste. Dysgeusia perhaps, not even hypogeusia can excuse this travesty parading on his plate as something edible. Or just far sharper teeth.

He wouldn’t have tried to say anything if not for the fact he is often a return guest at the doctor’s table. And so Will attempts to drop some hints in various ways. But as Dr.Lecter’s self-delusion continues, he finds it harder and harder to work them into everyday conversations even given their definition of normal soaked with blood and gore. You really can’t work in a line about the naked king somewhere, can you? Not when your psychiatrist is bound to come up with embarrassing associations that he wouldn’t voice out of propriety, but embarrassing ones nonetheless.

Under dire threats from Alana and occasional specific glares from Jack who does nothing but glare these days, he manages to keep his mouth shut. As a method of self-preservation, he insists that as Hannibal provides all the cooking, he can at least provide the ingredients. And since Hannibal isn’t well-versed in the art of fish dishes given the man’s weird obsession with meat and especially offal, Will has the dubious pleasure of telling Hannibal what to do and when to do it so that his stomach wouldn’t be overly abused. To his surprise, the fish usually turns out fine, a relief that he categorically does not mention to Jack. A passive-aggressive move it may be, but effective nevertheless.

And after the whirlwind, thunder, and storm that is the Chesapeake Ripper and Copycat Killer two-in-one-deal, Will could care less about Hannibal’s cooking. Well, he thinks more about the content and less about the quality.

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

The fact is, Hannibal is a good cook if he does say so himself.

Though his culinary reputation, or more accurately notoriety in Baltimore circles did not start as his choice, the maintenance of such a façade certainly is.

The first week that he arrived in Baltimore, he was obliged to host a house-warming dinner party, best to familiarize oneself with one’s surrounding fast, and establish the persona of an eccentric but well-meaning professional. He unfortunately did not have time to oversee the proceedings himself, and the chef he employed made a farce out of it. More proof that there is much truth in the saying of if you want it done well, do it yourself. Though the chef did contribute significantly to a pork roast for his private dining pleasure later, probably the most he has ever contributed to any meal really.

However, the reputation stuck. And after some initial exasperation, Hannibal began to see the camouflage and entertainment value in such a situation. It is immensely easy to tweak some little process in cooking. Of course, one serving is always done to perfection for his own consumption. But for the others, a change in temperature, a difference in oven-time, a removal of some spice, this or that flaw of some kind always manages to render the dish unpalatable with hardly any effort on his part. And it is beyond amusing to see all the good people of Baltimore’s upper echelons try to help him maintain his dignity in various ways. Many had been threatened with Alana’s heels or Mrs.Komoda’s social boycott. Besides, instead of enticing his guests with delicious fare, which would undoubtedly be wasted on their insensitive palates anyway, is it not more amusing to see them choke down the flesh of their own kind just in an effort to please him?

Often, Hannibal watches as one of his guests excuse himself to the bathroom with a napkin clutched in his hands. Others guests wear badly concealed expressions of regret and despair for not seizing the escape opportunity, but continue to take polite sparing bites. And he smiles into his wine. Yes, very amusing indeed.

When he became intrigued with Will Graham and Will’s dark maze of a mind, he naturally wished to invite this little mongoose to dine in his own habitat. He of course had to invite Jack too. The first effort of contact with Will cannot happen without the self-important head of BAU. And Hannibal has little patience to play tug with the bulldog. Then Alana must be included also. Three members of the team with Hannibal and Jack in authoritative positions in relation to her and Will rousing her mothering protective instincts? No, Alana must be invited if only to be mollified with a show of respect.

 

Though it seems that he slightly underestimated Jack’s regard for Will.

There is a brief lull in terms of cases. So Jack comes by the office to ostensibly give him some cold files to look at. To move things along, Hannibal naturally goes for the obvious. Subtlety is lost on Jack anyway.

“I am an occasional consultant for the FBI contracted only to offer some insights on profiles of ongoing cases, Jack. This falls somewhat out of my purview, and my consulting fees.”

Jack barks out a laugh. “Can’t blame me for trying. Though your main job is to assess and provide emotional support for Will.” Ah, there it is, the sensitivity of a bulldog.

Jack goes on. “I really must thank you for the invitation. Look forward to it…Bet you have the menu all planned out, eh Doctor?”

Hannibal smiles at the agent’s jovial and friendly tone. “No quite, Jack. Not yet. Good things come to those who wait. And inspiration strikes at unforeseen moments.”

“Then may I suggest a simple steak? No need to pull out all the tongues and raw hearts and contortionist fish first time, huh? Might scare our Will off.”

So he did not underestimate Jack’s regard after all. But Jack’s worry is unfounded, the BAU and the therapist have very different relationships with Will. Nevertheless, it is a small thing to concede. “Of course, Jack. A simple steak it is.”

And so steak is served.

Will though…Hannibal is slightly disappointed that he said nothing after the first bite. It seems out of character from Will’s usual brand of bluntness. But Jack’s surreptitious glare is proof enough that Will’s silence is not of his own volition. And his lack of comment continues.

Of course, Will can be trusted to come up with his own ingenious solutions. Hannibal pretends that he knows nothing of fish dishes. Something impossible for him by virtue of being born in Lithuania on the southeastern shore of the Baltic Sea and living then in France on the western coast. But lack of knowledge in this area serves as a good excuse. He does not wish to torture Will with abominations yet is bound by his self-cultivated reputation. Fish dishes though, lets him maintain his façade and still care for Will’s palate. More importantly, all the time spent in the informal setting of his kitchen brings good Will closer to him, on what must seem to Will as more equal footing. Hannibal enjoys the thought of Will catching and providing their dinner, even if it is more piscine than he wishes.

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

And it is not until their boat escape after killing a dragon together that Hannibal enlightens Will.

After Hannibal stitches them up, cuts and bruises throbbing all over their body, he rises stiffly. And Will reaches out to hold onto him. “Where are you going?”

Hannibal glances down. The wound on Will’s cheek is glaring. It will scar. Hannibal is less concerned with the probability of scarring than the fact that this wound is not his. “To make something to eat. We need rest and energy.”

Will pauses, then sits up quickly, swinging his legs over the mattress and down to the floor. He tries to stand, but almost collapses if not for Hannibal catching him in time. “You have to rest, Will.”

“I would, if you weren’t such a horrible cook.” Will slaps his hand over his mouth, then thinks better of it, shrugs and puts his hand down. “Not that I don’t enjoy you willingness to cook for me. It’s just that…” Will glances up. His tone turns from soothing to suspicious in an instant. Hannibal’s expression is too smooth. And he knows that expression well.

“Will, you will find that my culinary notoriety is just another patch of my person suit. I merely chose not to display my skills fully to our colleagues and acquaintances.”

Will stares.

And snorts.

And lays back down in bed.

He mutters. “Figures.”

Hannibal asks carefully. “Our trust will not be damaged by this reveal, will it?”

Will cracks open an incredulous eye. “You shoved an ear down my throat, framed me for five murders, cut my almost in half, tried to cut my head open and eat my brain….Yeah, you being able to cook definitely breaks our trust.”

Hannibal smiles.

“Now make me dinner. Properly.”

“Yes, Will. Don’t tear your stitches.”

Will looks down at his bowl.

Silkie chicken broth with wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.

He shakes his head, feels an involuntary smile come onto his face, and digs in.

It is delicious.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this fic (my first actually) wrote itself despite that I had three assignments due....  
> Oh, what the collective powers of Hannibal, an overactive imagination, and the bad habit of procrastination can do!
> 
> Inspired by YouTube Video: If Hannibal were a Bad Chef  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkGjLch1L2g


End file.
